


Remember Me

by thewritingkoala



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Memories, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 08:14:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12186270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewritingkoala/pseuds/thewritingkoala
Summary: When Isabella unexpectedly meets Tom again after five years, old memories lead to new memories.





	Remember Me

Isabella nudged the shop door open with her elbow on her way out, juggling her water bottle and her paperback in one hand while also shoving loose change into a jeans pocket. Miraculously, she managed not to smack herself in the head or back with the door—but she’d barely taken a step when she ran right into a human wall with an “oomph”.  
“Son of a…”  
The “bitch” died in her throat when she stumbled back and looked up, finding herself face to face with a man she’d last seen five years ago (and dreaming about ever since).  
“Tom?!”  
He looked as surprised as she felt, those ludicrous eyebrows traveling so far up his high forehead they nearly touched an errant blondish-brown curl.  
“Good lord, Isabella!” His face broke out into a wide smile, beaming like the sun high up in the sky and making her stumble back another step.  
Tom’s hand shot out to grip her elbow and steady her, his other hand wrapped around his iPhone.  
Well, hell. Out of all the people she’d been sure she would never run into again, it had to be Thomas William Hiddleston, lover of tea and Shakespeare, stealer of hearts, destroyer of ovaries, and one of the finest contemporary actors.  
Isabella had never told a soul about it, but five years ago, Tom and she had been an item for the grad duration of one blessedly crazy—and decidedly sex-filled—month. One of the best months in her life. Or the worst, depending on what mood she was in when she reminisced.  
It had all started during her trainee years as a beautician when she’d accompanied her boss to the Thor film set to help with the costume design and makeup. She’d been the quiet one lurking in corners whenever she was off duty, but one day Tom had walked up to her with a cup of coffee and two blueberry muffins, and complimented her on her work. Coffee and muffins had turned into fries and drinks in the evening, and that in turn had turned into a romp in the sheets with steaming repeat performances and earth-shattering encores.  
Just the memory made her clit pulse, dammit.  
Trying not to gawk or panic, Isabella clutched her water bottle tighter to herself like protective armor.  
“Uh, hi. Fancy meeting you here, after all this time. It must’ve been…um…five years?”  
Tom cocked his head a little, hitting her with the bright blue intensity of his gaze that had always unnerved and fascinated her equally.  
“Five years, two months and probably around ten days.”  
That was such a Tom thing it made her smile before the meaning sunk in. Had he been keeping track? Or was it just that amazing brain of his which soaked up knowledge like a sponge and could remember the oddest things? Yeah, it must be that. She really shouldn’t read too much importance into his words. After all, he was famous now.  
Of course, she’d kept tabs on him over the years. After their month in heaven, they’d parted amicably because she’d insisted she was neither cut out for long-distance relationships nor willing to play globe-trotter with him and turn into the uncool girlfriend of the up-and-coming Marvel movie star. There’d been a lot of tears—on both sides—as well as angry words, denial, and regrets. And oddly enough, it had been Tom who hadn’t been able to let go and make a clean cut.  
She’d received a few calls from him in the first months after the ‘break-up’. When he was at a party and so tipsy he sort of forgot they weren’t a couple. When he needed someone to talk to at 2 am in the morning at the other end of the globe in a lonely hotel bed. When he found a profound quote he wanted to share. When his sister Emma was admitted to hospital and he needed someone to tell him it would be okay. And dear god, she’d never forgotten this one time when he’d called her from Australia in the middle of the night, desperation in his voice, telling her he missed her. They’d ended up basically having phone sex, with him moaning how much he needed her and how badly he wanted to taste her and feel her clench around him, and her coming from the enthralling, naughty force of his voice more than from her own hand.  
Fuck, not a good thing to think about when Tom was standing right in front of her, his gaze raking her from head to toe. For an instant, she wished she’d worn something nicer than the old checkered blouse and the jeans that made her look curvier than most men liked it. She mentally kicked herself for thinking like that. Tom was out of her life, for heck’s sake. She’d done the right thing to distance herself from him years ago—even if she’d followed his career and burst with pride. After nearly a year, Tom had stopped calling and sending her odd messages, and she’d resigned herself to the fact that what’s past is past. But standing a few feet away from him and reading the pure admiration and adoration in his appreciative gaze was deadly.  
Tom looked different. The fair, freckled, handsome young man with the longish black hair for his role as Loki and his penchant for leather jackets had morphed into a decidedly more mature and devastatingly sexy man with shorter, lighter hair, a gorgeous gingery scruff and glasses that made him look like everyone’s dirty professor. He wore a dark blue sweater with the sleeves rolled up, and snug faded jeans that hugged his endless legs and probably also the peachy butt she still dreamed of sometimes. There were fine laughter lines around his heartbreakingly beautiful eyes, lines on his forehead, and a new scar she wanted to trace with her fingertips.  
“It’s rude to stare, darling,” he said with one of his infuriating smirks, and Isabella blushed.  
“Sorry, guess I’m a bit star struck because I bumped into Mr. Hollywood and the Internet’s favorite boyfriend,” she rallied, injecting some sass into her voice to cover up how shaken meeting him made her.  
His signature ehehehe laugh rang out, and she caught a glimpse of his tongue before he sobered up. “No star to see here,” he protested. “Just a man you used to know.” The last was said in a strangely sad tone, and suddenly five years seemed like fifty.  
“And nobody’s boyfriend,” he added, looking so serious she wanted to envelope him in a tight hug.  
There was a moment’s awkward silence, and then both of them spoke at the same time.  
“What brings you here?”  
“How’s life?”  
“You first.”  
They dissolved into giggles, and suddenly Tom stepped over and gave her exactly the hug she’d considered. Time stood still, and damn how right it felt to be in his embrace again, feel him softly nuzzle the side of her neck and breathe her in.  
Tom stepped back, and she was grateful because in another second or two she’d have made a grave mistake…like kissing him. Or telling him she had missed him.  
“Can I invite you for a cuppa, Izzy? I’ve discovered a café here that makes the most sinfully delicious raspberry tartlets.”  
She rolled her eyes at him. Apparently, some things never changed. “Still got that sweet tooth, Hiddleston?”  
His eyes twinkled with mischief when he winked at her. “You betcha, Miss Isabella, and it ain’t gonna go away soon,” he said in an exaggerated American drawl. Then he grabbed her hand as if they’d never parted ways, and tugged her along even before she’d said yes.

* * *

They ended up sharing four of the tartlets—which were indeed a sinfully delicious treat—and two cups of coffee, chatting about old times. Well, it was mostly her asking and Tom answering, and she deliberately stuck to safe topics like his movies and travels.  
After a lull in conversation, he crossed his legs, his knee knocking against hers under the table and sending a jolt of electricity through her.  
“Tell me, Izzy, did you ever get that additional diploma in Ayurvedic beauty tips?”  
For a few seconds, she could only gape at him, eyes bulging. What the hell, he cared enough to not just recall that but ask her about it?!  
“I…uh, yeah, I did. A friend of mine from India invited me to stay with her, and so I scratched together all my savings and traveled to Asia for some research and hands-on experience. It’s become one of my specialties now, in fact.”  
If anyone could actually glow with pride, then it would be Tom right now. He beamed at her, clapping his hands like an excited five-year-old. “That’s bloody brilliant! I’m so chuffed you made one of your dreams come true.”  
She stared some more, feeling something crack and break open inside her, freeing all those emotions she’d thought she’d bottled away securely.  
“I thought you wouldn’t even remember me after all this time,” Isabella said, only partially succeeding in covering up the jumbled mix of hurt, surprise and confusion in her voice.  
Tom’s eyes narrowed, going from happy to solemn in a millisecond. “Still underestimating yourself, I see.”  
She tossed her hair back over her shoulder, feeling a little thrill shoot through her at the way Tom’s eyes followed the movement, narrowing even more. He’d always had a thing for her waist-long auburn hair—and if she was brutally honest with herself, he was one of the reasons why she hadn’t cut it despite the hassle.  
“I think I know my worth now, don’t worry. But that doesn’t mean I harbor illusions. I mean, I’m a nobody, just a plain old beautician from a small town in the middle of nowhere. You’re a goddamn international movie star with a Golden Globe to your name, jetting from one country to the other.”  
“Bullshit.” Tom glared at her. “I’m still the same old Tom who wears his clothes to rags, appreciates a good book, and talks entirely too much about things he’s interested in.” He leaned forward, snaring her gaze and holding her captive in the way only he could. “And you are about the furthest from plain a person can get.”  
She scoffed, automatically leaning back a little to escape his intensity. “Flattering will get you anywhere.”  
“You know me well enough not to say that. I don’t make a habit of flattering people.” He crossed his arms, drawing her gaze to the way his biceps stretched the soft-looking fabric of his sweater. He’d filled out some without losing his leanness, and it did nothing to curb her libido.  
“You’re fascinating,” Tom insisted. “Always were, always will be. Don’t sell yourself short. I mean, take your work as a beautician. Sure, you know your way with makeup and all your useful little utensils, but that’s not how the magic happens. You excel at your job because you dig deep enough to see the beauty in people, and then you bring it to the fore. That’s a rare talent, darling.”  
Damn him to hell, he knew just how to hack away at the defenses she’d erected around her heart. She didn’t want to fall under his spell again. It would only mean heartbreak.  
“Flatterer,” she muttered, lowering her head to hide her blush behind a curtain of hair.  
Tom reached out and brushed those hair strands back, the tips of his fingers grazing her ear and making her freeze.  
“I’m telling you the truth, Izzy.” There was something beseeching in his tone, with an undercurrent of heat. But his eyes…god, his eyes smoldered.  
“I remember everything about you,” he said, his voice dropping into a deeper register that made her surreptitiously clench her thighs together. “The way you smile at the smallest things, like sunshine or birdsong or a balloon in a park. The way you kiss, letting yourself fall into the moment until it’s all that matters and fries my ridiculously helpless brain cells.”  
Isabella swallowed convulsively, wanting and not wanting to break the magical moment. Tom’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips, a habit that hadn’t died over the years and still made her belly flutter because she knew all too well what that dexterous tongue could do.  
“I remember how you smell,” Tom added, his voice growing huskier and more intimate with each word. “I remember how you taste. Your lips, your skin, your velvety slickness that tells me how much you want me.” He leaned forward even more, his gaze dropping to her parted lips before he looked into her eyes again. “And I remember that throaty little sound you make when I touch you just right. And the tortured, gasped whimper when you come apart for me, around me.”  
Jesus fucking Christ, this man was a menace. Isabella felt ready to combust, her needy pussy clenching on nothing. She’d always found Tom’s way with words arousing as hell, and he’d apparently gotten worse with the years.  
The years. She’d forgotten all about the years and about being mad at him, and hurt. Dammit, she shouldn’t succumb to the traitorous desire coursing through her veins.  
She blinked, hauled in a deep breath, tried to cling to her last bit of sanity and resolve.  
“Do you remember those things too, Izzy?” The way he said her name was a caress, a promise, almost an actual touch between her legs.  
“No. I don’t.” It took her colossal will power to avert her eyes and inject a brusque, cool note to her tone. “It’s been five years, Tom. Memories fade.”  
“Some don’t.” His tone was different now, wistful with an undercurrent of pain that cut her to the quick. He drew back and downed the rest of his coffee, leaving her wondering whether he did really think of her sometimes and long for what they’d had.

* * *

Gentleman that he was, Tom insisted on walking her home when it got dark outside. They strolled along at a leisurely pace, mostly silent now apart from a few things she told him about the town.  
Inside her, she was waging a silent war. Should she invite him in for a nightcap? Was she kidding herself when she thought she’d be able to keep her hands off him if he accepted the invitation? How and what did he feel about her now?  
No, she shouldn’t ask him to stay. Surely he had his choice of glamorous beauties ready to fall at his feet now. Why would he show any real interest in her other than chatting for old time’s sake? She’d been stupid once; she wouldn’t make the same mistake again.  
But why had Tom gone so silent on her, walking with his hands in his pockets and sometimes shooting her sidelong glances she could feel like touches?  
Isabella paused in front of her apartment building.  
“Maybe it’s better if we say goodbye now.”  
She tried her hardest not to look into his eyes, knowing she’d give in to temptation and to his persuasion.  
When she snuck in a quick glance at Tom, she saw the hurt flashing across his face before determination took over and made her stomach flip. Once Tom was determined to get or do something, there usually was no stopping him.  
His hand came to the back of her neck, burying beneath her hair. God, she’d almost forgotten how freakishly big his hands were, and how strong yet tender.  
He tilted her head up until she had no choice but to look at him.  
“Do I at least get a goodbye kiss?”  
Damn. Damn, damn, damn.  
“Sure,” she choked out, then rose onto her tiptoes and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, registering in the split second how wonderful the stubble felt.  
His grip on her neck tightened, and he made a small growly sound low in his throat.  
“I don’t recall you being such a tease.” He glared at her, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “A real kiss, Izzy. Just one kiss so I can add something to all those torturous memories.”  
God, how was she supposed to resist this man?  
Knowing she was fighting a losing battle, Isabella leaned close again. She took a deep breath—which was a mistake because now she was awash in his unique scent, sunshine and citrus with a hint of cotton, sweat and purely masculine appeal.  
She laid her mouth over Tom’s, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t feel the spark of the past.  
Who was she kidding? The spark hadn’t gone away—it was even stronger now. As soon as her lips touched his and she felt more than heard him hum softly in approval, fire burst aflame inside her. She needed more. So much more.  
Isabella increased the pressure of her mouth against Tom’s thin but soft lips, snaked the tip of her tongue out to taste him. He parted his lips on a low groan, and then their tongues were touching, tangling. His fingers twitched against her neck, and his free hand came to rest on the small of her back, hauling her closer. One of her hands came up to his shoulder, her fingers digging into the sweater. The other one was still clutching her key, its sharp edge digging into her palm. But she felt no pain, only the all-consuming hunger to be closer to Tom, and the magic of his tongue exploring every corner of her mouth.  
He angled his head, took the kiss even deeper, grinding against her and letting her feel what a simple kiss did to him. A shiver racked her body when she felt his arousal poke against her belly, when his hand slid beneath her blouse to touch the bare skin at the base of her spine and brand her.  
Tom’s teeth scraped over her kiss-swollen lower lip before he pulled away, panting and staying so close they were sharing the same air.  
“Christ, Izzy, what you do to me after all this time.” His voice was deep and rough, and his eyes had darkened from blue to a greyish-blue black.  
He leaned his forehead against hers, and she felt him shudder when his hand wandered lower so his fingertips dived beneath the waistband of her jeans. When she still said nothing, didn’t move away, he slid his fingers lower yet, beneath her panties and over the swell of her ass cheeks. He squeezed, pressing her even closer and wedging a thigh between her legs. He nudged it against her damp center, and she bucked into his touch with a half-suppressed moan.  
“Invite me in, Izzy. I know you want me. Please.” He drew back only a fraction to hold her gaze, his pupils dilated. “Invite me in and let me show you how well I remember what you like, what you need.”  
“Yes.” The word was out before she could even blink, and for a moment, they remained frozen, gazes locked.  
Then Tom swooped down for another kiss, this one even hungrier, their teeth clanging.  
He paused only long enough to say “inside” with a commanding growl that had her soak her panties even more. Somehow, they were moving, limbs entangled, exchanging kisses while Isabella tried to unlock the door. They parted to navigate the stairs, Izzy walking ahead and Tom following close behind with both hands on her hips, bending ever so often to nuzzle the nape of her neck or inhale the scent of her hair.  
By the time they’d reached the second floor and she was struggling with her key again, Isabella felt ready to combust with want.  
“Hurry up, darling,” Tom said, a hint of a chuckle mixing with the desire-laced huskiness of his voice when she fumbled and fumbled, seemingly taking forever to unlock her apartment door.  
“Not impatient at all, are we, Hiddleston?”  
“Oh, you bet I’m impatient.” He tugged on her earlobe. “I can’t wait to bury my mouth in your luscious cunt again. Five years was much too long.”  
Legs quivering, she bit back a curse and finally managed to open the door. Tom moved so fast it made her dizzy. One moment, they were standing outside in the hallway, the next moment they were inside her place. She barely had time to hit the light switch, drop the key and kick off her shoes before Tom had spun her around and pressed the front of her body to the door.  
He sunk his teeth into the side of her neck, making her yelp and moan, tilting her head for better access. His tongue laved the tender spot he’d just marked, and he ground his erection into her from behind, making needy noises of his own that put her in imminent danger of flooding her panties.  
She wiggled, trying to turn, but Tom would have none of that. He grabbed her hands and lifted them over her head, placing her palms flat against the door.  
“Keep them there if you want my mouth on you,” he growled.  
God, how she had missed that dominant streak that sometimes broke through the caring gentleman and turned her into a keening, writhing mess within seconds.  
He fisted a hand in her hair, tangling it and wrapping the long tresses around his forearm before tugging it to the side just hard enough to make her scalp tingle and amp up her arousal. His other hand moved around her, wedging itself between her stomach and the door while he attacked her neck with renewed vigor. He sucked and licked, nipped and nuzzled until she was breathlessly begging him for more.  
“Touch me, Tom. Please. Oh please, I need you to touch me so fucking much.”  
With an almost menacing chuckle, he ground his erection harder against her ass cheeks before kicking her legs apart. One-handedly, he opened the button and zipper on her jeans before sliding his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties. At the first brush of his fingers over her slick folds, both of them hissed in a breath and stilled.  
“Dammit, Izzy, you’re soaking wet.”  
“For you. It’s all for you, Tom.”  
He groaned, tugging on her earlobe again before kissing the spot behind her ear that always made her see stars. His hand drifted lower to cup her mound, one long finger parting her folds and gliding through her arousal.  
“Still can’t remember how I used to make you feel?” he asked, his voice fierce and growly while his fingers shifted so he could rub over her clit and make her gasp.  
Her answer was cut off when he slid a finger inside her, making her clamp down on him and hold back a choked whimper.  
“Ah yes, there’s that throaty little sound. It belongs to me, do you hear me? It’s mine,” Tom said, almost snarling.  
After pumping it in and out only a few times, he withdrew his finger. She opened her mouth to protest and found herself face to face with his arousal-coated digit.  
“Taste yourself. Taste how desperately you want me. Maybe that’ll help your brain along.”  
Obediently, turned on beyond the ability to form coherent thoughts or words, she sucked on his finger, tasting herself. She scraped her teeth along his skin, swirled her tongue around the tip and felt him shiver, the grip on her hair tightening before it was suddenly gone.  
“Fuck,” he whispered, and for a moment she felt only air from quick movement. He hooked his fingers into her waistband and drew her jeans and panties down her body. Isabella reacted on auto-pilot, lifting her legs, bracing herself with her palms against the door. When she wanted to turn around after he’d pulled both items off, he pressed a hand to the small of her back again.  
“Don’t move,” he rasped.  
His hands traveled over her legs, crawled up her inner thighs, dug in and pulled her legs so far apart that she was barely balanced.  
Without warning, his mouth latched onto her pussy from behind, his tongue diving deep for a long lick.  
“Tom.” She gasped, pushing back against his face, and he gripped her thighs more firmly, to the point where he would probably leave faint bruises. She wanted them. Wanted him to mark her and possess her and claim her as his again.  
Rational thought went out the window when Tom began eating her out in earnest, suckling and licking every place he could reach, flicking her clit in between.  
She could dimly hear herself over the noise of him slurping and softly moaning at her taste, and she didn’t sound human at all. It was all a mixture of begging him please, cursing, and keening her pleasure, her hands scrabbling at the door to get some purchase and buck into his mouth.  
Moving her with speed and ease, Tom grabbed her waist and turned her around. She had a second of seeing him kneeling in front of her, his lips and scruff glistening with her arousal, his eyes feral. Then he buried his face between her legs again and really went for her clit. He hoisted one of her legs over his shoulder, rubbing the stubble on his face over her sensitive inner thigh in between licks.  
Isabella’s hands went to his hair, tugging probably hard enough to cause him pain, pushing herself even closer to his lethal tongue.  
“God, Tom, I…unhhhh….ah fuck, I’m going to come if you don’t stop. Tom!”  
She closed her eyes, letting her head fall back against the door with a thud, hurtling towards the brink.  
Tom flicked his tongue over her clit repeatedly, then licked down and speared it into her pussy. He withdrew for a moment, running his teeth over the crease between her thigh and her sex. “Open your eyes, Izzy. Look at me when you come for me, and remember.”  
She willed her drooping lids to lift, casting a heavy-lidded look down at him and barely managing to breathe.  
He curled his slick lips in a predatory grin, then latched onto her clit and sucked it almost hard enough to cause pain.  
The ball of tightly coiled desire inside her burst. Heat and icy cold spread through her limbs, and she bucked in his hold, shouting his name again and again. Tom drank up every last drop she had to give, then brought her down with soft little licks to her folds and kisses to her thigh.  
Isabella had the feeling she’d blacked out for a bit. When she blinked back to life, Tom was still on his knees in front of her, his head resting against her leg, licking the last of her slickness from his mouth with a low moan. The sight of it was enough to make her pussy clench with renewed want. If it wasn’t for his strong hold on her, she’d have melted to the floor.  
“Remember now?” Tom asked, cocking a brow.  
Wordlessly, she tugged on his hair, and he rose to his intimidating height and let her pull him into a kiss. She could taste herself on him, felt his pulse race as if he’d just come too.  
“Yes, I do,” she admitted, her voice hoarse from shouting. “I always did. Always will.”  
Tom shuddered. Taking her face in his hands, he seemed to stare right into her soul.  
“Part of me wanted to move on and forget you,” he admitted, and the emotional intensity in his gaze and voice nearly brought her to her knees. “But another part wanted to remember you, how happy you made me at one point, how perfectly right things seemed once. And that part eventually won over, though I’m still not sure that was a good idea.”  
“I…” she had to swallow thickly. “I know exactly what you mean.”  
Tom inhaled sharply. He took a step back, grabbed the hem of her blouse and tugged it over her head. Deftly, he unclasped her bra and bent his head to press a kiss to each of her pebbled nipples, making her gasp.  
“How about making new memories with me then?” he asked, and she could feel it in the tenseness of his body how hard it was for him to hold back.  
Isabella wiggled out of his hold and strode down the corridor. She threw him a look over her shoulder and crooked a finger in a come-hither motion, giving her hips an extra sway.  
She led the way to the bedroom, everything inside her tensing at the knowledge of what was to come, at the recollection of how perfect their union had been.  
Feeling uncharacteristically bold in the face of Tom’s obvious desire, she hit the light switch in the bedroom and lay down on her back on the bed. Slowly, she bent her legs and spread them, and Tom made a decidedly animalistic sound, standing in the doorway and eating her up alive with his eyes.  
In record speed, he shed his clothes, his muscles bunching and flexing enticingly. Just like she remembered it, he’d gone commando, his cock rising huge and proud once he’d shucked his pants. It was rock hard and seemed even bigger than she remembered it, the tip weeping precum. She hungered for it, wanted him in her mouth as much as inside her, wanted to run her tongue over the V leading to the Promised Land.  
Like a predator, Tom stalked towards the bed and climbed on, settling between her legs.  
Impatient to be filled by him, Isabella lifted her hips, one hand rising to his neck to tug him down for a kiss.  
Tom pulled back after a moment, shifting his weight so he could slide a hand down and fondle a breast. He kneaded the full globe, thumbing the pebbled nipple until she was writhing even more.  
“Did you miss me these past years?” he asked, snaring her gaze again. His pupils were blown so wide there was hardly any blue to see. “Did you touch yourself and wish it was me?”  
She shut her eyes against the truth, a flush creeping over her face as she nodded.  
“Look at me, Izzy,” he commanded again, and she reluctantly opened her eyes.  
His hand wandered from her breast down her stomach to slide through her pussy again, rousing her need to fever pitch.  
“Tell me what you want.”  
Isabella bit her lip, shivering whenever he brushed softly over her throbbing clit.  
“Tell me.”  
“I want you to take me,” she whispered. “I want you to fuck me so hard I’ll remember it for the rest of my life.”  
With a strangled groan, Tom slid two fingers inside her clenching cunt, driving them in and out at a merciless pace. To stretch her for his considerable size, he added a third finger and leaned down to lave her nipple. He sucked it as far into his mouth as he could, until she was arching off the bed, clawing his back and thrashing beneath him.  
“Please, Tom,” she begged, and he let her nipple go with a pop, grazing his teeth over it once.  
God, he looked magnificent right now, his face flushed and sweaty, a curl plastered to his forehead, the veins and tendons in his neck standing out. He licked his lips and positioned himself. He let his cock brush over her clit. Once, twice, until she wanted to scream in frustration. He coated himself in her slickness, then notched only the tip of his cock at her entrance, his jaw clenched.  
“Beg me again.”  
Isabella wound her legs around his waist, desperately trying to take more of him inside. “Fuck me, Tom. Make me yours again. Please, I need you. Please!”  
With an almost anguished sound, he drove into her and buried himself to the hilt.  
She froze, adjusting to him as she’d never needed to do it with her other lovers throughout the years. Tom’s expression looked pained, and he was practically vibrating with the need to move.  
“Jesus, Izzy, you’re so damn tight. So hot and slick and fucking tight,” he ground out.  
When she rolled her hips, he moaned, and his self-control snapped. Setting a punishing pace, he drove in and out of her, snapping his hips and bumping her cervix almost every time, adding a tiny twinge of pain that magnified her pleasure.  
She could already feel it inside her, another orgasm that would put all her previous ones to shame.  
When she was just on the brink, Tom slowed his thrusts without actually making them gentler. He drew out almost completely and sunk in with maddening slowness, grinding down on her clit and rotating his hips to hit every possible angle inside her.  
“Please, please, please,” Isabella begged, unable to force out anything else, dying with the need to come again and make him climax too.  
Tom flipped with her in his arms, lying on his back and pulling her up to straddle him.  
“Ride me. If you want to come again, ride me like you mean it.”  
He dug his fingers into her hips, remaining completely still beneath her. When she lifted herself off and sunk back down on him, they moaned in unison. Freaking hell, she could feel him even deeper like this, and when she shifted forward slightly, he hit her G-spot with every thrust.  
His jaw unhinged, his eyes hazy but blazing with heat, Tom watched her rise over him again and again. One hand moved to a breast to tweak a nipple and she clenched down on him, making him whimper and frown.  
“God, I wish you could see yourself right now,” he ground out huskily. “With your hair flowing around you like this, and your tits bouncing, and that fierce look of determination mingled with bliss on your face. You look like a goddess. A wanton forest nymph.”  
He let his hand creep from her breast to her hair, sliding through it, tugging on it. Then he moved it down and pressed his thumb over her clit.  
With a shout, Izzy stilled above him and let herself go, seeing actual stars in front of her eyes. Tom fucked her through her orgasm, his narrow hips snapping up for two, three, four powerful thrusts before he groaned, gnashed his teeth and spilled inside her.  
Boneless and satiated, Isabella collapsed onto his sweaty body. “Definitely the best way to make memories,” she mumbled against his chest and felt his arms cradle her close, one hand wandering into her long tresses again.  
She heard an exhausted chuckle. “Definitely. Sleep now, Izzy-Bits. You need your strength for more memories.”  
Her eyes opened wide at the use of her old nickname, but she really couldn’t bring her brain or mouth to work. With Tom’s gradually steadying heartbeat below her ear and his idle fingers in her hair, she allowed herself to fall asleep.


End file.
